


A Knife's Edge

by Theveryhornycaterpillar



Series: How We Met Again [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Clarke's POV, Drabble, F/F, I lied it's a two shot, lexa's pov, season three
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-10 22:24:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5603164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theveryhornycaterpillar/pseuds/Theveryhornycaterpillar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Second one-shot (I lied it's a two-shot) of how Clarke and Lexa meet again. </p><p>The first chapter is from Clarke's point of view; the second from Lexa's.  </p><p>Clarke has been wandering for months plotting her revenge on Lexa. </p><p>Lexa is attempting to stop a war from breaking out. </p><p> </p><p>Inspired by the knife scene in the trailer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Clarke's POV

**Author's Note:**

> Twenty days! Oh wait. Happy New Year - that's the one. I know I promised to update my other work but I had a dream and this happened so I had to write it. Also, I did write this just after waking up from said dream so I was a bit half asleep.

 

You were here for one reason and one reason only, but as soon as you saw her face that resolve crumbled to dust before your eyes. 

For months, you had wandered through forests and across streams. All that time you had been planning what you would do when you found her. What you would say. How you would end her life while she stared into eyes filled with nothing but hatred for her and her choices. The decisions you had made,  that she had forced you make when she left you, weighed heavy on your chest. Images of burning skin and blistered faces accompanied the sounds of agonised screams as they echoed through your mind. Nothing could ever take that away and after three months of praying to long lost gods, you were starting to think that this would be the price you would pay. This is what you deserved. For as long as you lived. This is what you would always deserve.

Killing Lexa could never rid you of them; of that you were certain, but it could rid you of the thoughts of her. The thoughts of what could have been had she not left you to die. She did leave though so now you would do the same to her. Slit her throat and leave her to choke out on her last breath while you walked away. 

The moment you entered the room she turned to look at you. There was no warpaint, no blood, no sweat, not even the barest hint of the warrior who had abandoned you to die. Instead, you saw the girl who was given responsibility beyond her years. A girl who learned loss because of the role she held. A girl who would do anything to protect her people. A girl who had fallen from declaring her beliefs of feelings being weakness to admitting that she cared for you. The girl who went from spitting your name like poison to rolling it off her tongue like it was sacred as the sun in the sky.

There was a knife on the table. There was knife on the table and it was that you would use to silence the swirling cacophony of Lexa in your mind. “Clarke” She still said your name with such softness, such care. Cradling it between her lips before finally letting it flow into the room like she is afraid that she would cause harm if she allowed it to drop unceremoniously. She shouldn’t say your name like that. There is no part of you remaining that is as gentle as the way she whispers your name. It is so long since you heard your own name you had almost forgotten the sound. Now it was her, Lexa, Heda kom Trikru, who reminded you of the person you once were before she took that away from you. Ripped it from your grasping hands in front of that mountain which you had promised to fell together.

The spell her voice cast over you broke, causing the clouds in your mind to scatter when she took a step towards you. Her gait the only indication of her regal status: Head high, shoulders back, neck straight. One more step bought her within reaching distance and without a second thought as to the absence of the warrior from the girl in front of you; you gripped the knife in your left hand, bringing your right up to grasp the cloth covering her shoulder, pressing the blade to her throat, feeling it pulse as she swallowed beneath its sharp edge. Her back pressed against the cold stone wall as your hand pressed down desperately willing yourself to make the move. 

Your gaze fixed upon her own; whilst your eyes beamed anger and betrayal her’s showed nothing of the horrors she inflicted upon you. The burden you had to bear so your people could live their lives. Sadness, sorrow, understanding. That’s what her eyes held. Your father told you that the eyes were the easiest way to see into a person’s soul and when you saw into her soul your left hand faltered relieving the pressure against her neck. Your eyes were the next to fall victim to her. Your burning stare fell to one of confusion, your focus moving from her eyes down her face to her mouth and her lips. The lips that she had pressed to your own so gently, so softly. The memory of her hand cradling the curve of your jaw pulling you in so fast yet so calm. The confusion you felt before you were fully aware of what was happening. The rush of feeling somebody who was like you - barely an adult, forced to lead and make decisions that no person should ever have to make. The calm that overflowed your body culminating in your returned press of lips against hers. Melting together in the most human of feelings. She had been so caring, so careful.

_ ‘She left you’ _

The sudden reminder screamed through your head, shaking you from your daze back into reality. You gripped the knife harder until your knuckles turned white and the handle would leave an imprint in your palm. 

_ ‘She abandoned you’ _

You pulled your right hand up, still grasping the cloth that lay on her shoulder. Pressing her back to the wall with a jolt.

_ ‘She made you kill them all’ _

It was a lie. You knew it was a lie, but that didn’t stop you from using the sudden surge in anger to push the knife back up against the throat she left exposed when she continued to hold her head up high. The knife was there, it was sharp, all it would take was you drawing you hand across, dragging the blade with it. Crimson liquid would spill from her throat just like it had burst from your heart the moment she turned her back.

_ ‘You can do this. Jus drein. Jus daun. Blood must have blood’ _

Her words from before rattled within you. A shaky breath exited through your lips, stuttering along your throat, stinging on its way out. 

_ ‘Just do it. Rip her open like she tore you up from the inside out. Rip out her throat like she ripped out your heart’ _

“I can’t” The knife fell from your hand when your first sob broke through your lips. “I can’t do it” The air around you rang with the sound of metal hitting stone; your knees following the knife on its path to the ground. Legs buckling under the weight of the burden you had carried, the hatred you had held. For the first time since the mountain, you allowed yourself to fall. To mourn the people you had saved only to leave because you could no longer face them.

Warm arms wrapped their way around your shoulders pulling your head into a rising chest, encasing your entire body as if protecting it from what lay outside the embrace. “I killed them all” It was choked out, barely audible, but she heard it and gripped you more tightly in her arms. “You left us and I killed them all. Every last one of them. I hate you!”

You said it, but there was no gravity in it. It was a weak attempt at convincing yourself more than anything. You knew though. You had known all along but it lay ignored and neglected in a corner of your brain that even you weren’t allowed to access. You hadn't let yourself access.  No matter how hard you tried there was no changing the reality of the matter. 

You could never hate her.  You could never hate her for the choice she made at the mountain. She chose her people over you - the one person she admitted to caring about. She left you, but you could never hate her for it.

Because you would have done the same.


	2. Lexa's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa's point of view plus some background on our beloved commander. I apologise in advance if this hurts as much to read as it did to draught and write it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 14 DAYS!  
> Sorry I got a bit excited :P

You had heard the stories of how the Maunon tumbled at her hands. You heard how she imposed an exile upon herself in an attempt to repent for the actions she had taken. Leaving the people she had saved, her people, behind. Your scouts had followed her for a month before you needed their resources elsewhere. Each day they had sent news of how the Skai Heda withdrew further into the darkness which life had forced upon her. 

Clarke wore her emotions in plain sight for all to see where you hid yours behind a mask that only two people had ever seen slip. Costia, of course, was the first to watch the mask slide from your face and onto the ground as you collapsed into her arms a sobbing wreck. Your first battle as Heda of the Trikru bought pain beyond any you had ever felt before. Warriors you had trained with - cared deeply for, fell before your eyes, torn down like those in the world of legends in a time long since past. She had held you after each battle, whispering reassurances. Reminding you that for each of your warriors who had lost their life that day, death was not the end of their journey through this world.

The second, Clarke, was never fooled by the facade you maintained. There were moments where she was unsure of just what you had kept hidden since the death of the only other person you trusted enough to show weakness in front of. There were moments where confusion graced her features, bringing her eyebrows together and pursing her lips in deep thought. But they were only moments. Ultimately she saw through every barrier of your defence, into your very soul. And you let her. You let her because there was a part of you which had fallen for her the instant she stepped into your tent. Bringing with her news of the death of your mentor and the hopes of forming an alliance. A part of you which grew with each second you spent together. A part of you that wept in sorrow the moment you left her stood in front of the mountain that held her people. You made the right choice for the twelve clans of the coalition on that day but there was a fragment of your heart you abandoned with her leaving a searing pain in its place. At first, you had thought the way Clarke displayed her feelings made her weak. That because she could not hide the things she felt from the people she led she would unintentionally put them in danger. Her triumph over the Maunon stood testament to how wrong you had been to ever doubt her.

There was no news of Clarke for two months now. Your scouts had been unable to find her once they returned from their duties in the south. After ten days you ordered them to stand down. There was no way to justify their search for her when you needed them for other matters. You feared that she was lost forever; that you had been too late to recommence the search. She was strong, however, your winters were harsh, especially in the north where she had last been seen heading. News that an unofficial bounty had been placed on her head did nothing to quell the rising fear flooding through your veins. With each passing day, your hope for her survival withered. You did not allow yourself to mourn the possibility of her passing into the next life. You had a coalition to maintain and without a common enemy in the Maunon that was proving to be a challenging task. Now was not a time to show weakness. Not with rumours of unrest within the Azgeda spreading from north to south like the blizzards of winter.

In these last months, the people of Polis had grown uneasy. A city forged from wartime as a safe haven for all those who entered became a place where leaders of the clans fought in heated debates and citizens cowered in their homes. You could prolong the inevitable for only so long and when you were brought news that the Skaikru had angered the Ice Queen you knew that war would be upon you shortly. After all, it was you that gave them the truce when other clans wanted to eradicate them the moment their guard was down.

Tense meetings, preparation for the imminent battles and the stockpiling of supplies left you exhausted at the end of every day. You would return to your chambers within the palace only to toss and turn restlessly. When you did sleep (an achievement in itself) your dreams were filled with one of two things.

Either the screams of felled warriors, their faces contorted by the agony of a sword plunging through their chest as they fell down, down onto the cold ground, blood trickling from the corner of their mouth’s from where the shock of pain caused them to bite down on their own tongue.

Or her.

Dreams of vibrant blue eyes framed by golden hair, shining brighter than the sun. Dreams of the feeling of her lips on your own as you surrendered to the weakness she bought out from within you. Dreams of her face when you confirmed for her the choice you had made. Dreams of longing to look back at her just one more time if only to commit her face to memory. Dreams of stopping yourself, because, if you turned then you might never walk away and your people would know of your weakness. Your weakness for her. For Clarke. The girl who stole a piece of your heart that you never intended to give away. A piece you had never even noticed growing back in the time since Costia had passed.

On the evening marking the third month of when you left Clarke at the foot of Mount Weather, you returned to the Heda’s chambers drained from a day of confrontation with clan leaders. Whilst none would dare to question your leadership to your face you could sense the doubts that they held. The Azgeda continued to antagonise the Skaikru and the other clans were beginning to grow anxious of what would take place within the coming weeks. Matters were not aided by the scarcity of food in recent times. Winter was approaching its end, although not fast enough. It had been long and harsh; now the food stores were close to bare. You often sacrificed your own meals, you could not eat all the time your people were hungry. That’s why you believed yourself to be hallucinating.

The woman you had dreamt of on so many nights only to have her torn away by consciousness was stood before you. Her eyes were shining bright with anger, her clothes torn and patched together after months of constant wear. “Clarke” the name fell from your lips for the first time in months, sooner than your brain could prevent your mouth from forming it. In the rational part of your mind, you knew that she could not be here. There was no plausible way she could have survived the winter. That didn’t stop you from taking a step towards her, then another.

The moment you realised she was real was the moment she reached out with her right hand and grasped the fabric between your shoulder guard and your neck at the same time as pressing the cold metal of a dagger to your throat. You felt the rough yet sharp edge of the knife scrape along the skin on your neck as you swallowed against it while being pushed back into the wall. Her gaze met your own, eyes that once held the sky now resembling a stormy ocean, tormented by its own existence.

This was not the first occasion upon which your life had been threatened, however, this was the first time you did not fight back. Something which was both a conscious and unconscious decision. Beyond the blade at your throat and her steely gaze this was still Clarke. The woman you had prayed to see again, and you still trusted her. Had you wanted to push her away, disarm her, use her knife to slit her throat as repayment for threatening your life just as you had done to all others who tried, you could not have done it. Your body would not allow you to force any more harm upon her than you already had.

The pressure of her hands against you eased if only for a moment, her eyes faltering, straying from your own. Her hand once more pushed down upon your shoulder forcing your back flush with the wall. The knife returned with a brutal pressure, only just held back from breaking through your skin. Still though she could not bring her eyes back up to meet your own. Instead, her stare was fixed on the knife as though she were willing it to push itself into your throat and tear out the blood pumping through your neck.

A hot, stuttering breath brushed through her lips, out of her mouth, across your chin onto the blade which shook under her grasp. The unmistakeable rise of her shoulders foretelling the shattered works which burst forth from her mouth in a sob “I can’t”. All pressure against the dagger evaporated, sending it crashing to the floor where the metal struck the hard stone, the sound reverberating around your otherwise empty room. “I can’t do it” 

Her knees buckled but you caught her, wrapping your arms around her shoulders, lowering you both to the ground to prevent her from falling. Pulling her head into your shoulder, never wanting to let her go. Her seemingly tiny frame encased by your arms around her while she curled into a tighter ball than you ever thought possible.

You held her while she sobbed into your chest, wailing over her failure to draw the knife through your skin and into your throat. “I hate you” Her words stung causing the prickling of your own eyes to begin. You would, no, you could never change the choice you made that day. It was the right choice for your people, but the truth sat heavy in your chest.

Throughout all she said, all the crying, all the ways she told you of her hatred for you, you held her. You held her just as Costia had held you all those years before. Only when Costia had held you it was because you were left broken by the losses of war. Now though Clarke was broken by you.

You did this to her.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. let me know what you think: love/hate. Kudos and comments are always a welcome addition that motivate me to write more and, hopefully, get better at writing  
> Find me on Tumblr at theveryhornycaterpillar.tumblr.com or on my writing blog theveryhornycaterpillarwrites.tumblr.com  
> Cat :D


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